


Pleasure At Thigh Noon

by Synchron



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Clothed Sex, Dry Humping, F/M, Grinding, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22238869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synchron/pseuds/Synchron
Summary: It's movie night, but only one of you is watching.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry)/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 296





	Pleasure At Thigh Noon

**Author's Note:**

> A nonnie left a very quick scene in my ask box on tumblr, and I just couldn't resist the sinful honey they poured into my ear, so here we are. 😔
> 
> Also everybody please go and thank Muzz for the title of this fic, I was staring at the blank "WORK TITLE" box for ages, and then Muzz just slaps that title down with no effort. THAT IS SORCERY...

It started off innocent enough. A quiet night spent together watching old B-grade horror movies. You never understood Vergil's love for them, having always pegged him as more of an intellectual, but he says the forced script, poor visual effects and jarring plot contrivances make for an entertaining time if taken at face value. You still don't really understand, but there's something incredibly heartwarming in your boyfriend taking interest in such mundane and trivial things. Though he adamantly denies it whenever you bring it up to him, he's far more similar to Dante than he realises.  
  
But heartwarming as it is, these movies can only hold your attention for so long before your mind starts to wander. It's inconspicuous at first, the way you slowly nudge your way across the couch toward him, an act that belies your true intentions. Vergil welcomes you by lifting an arm and letting you scoot under it to nestle against his side as you both (read: he) continues to watch, but he soon realises an innocent cuddle isn't quite what you had planned.  
  
"What are you doing?" The only reason his eyes are on you instead of the TV is because your body blocks his line of sight. You innocently walk your fingers up his chest, and you note that even completely relaxed, his muscles do not give under your touch - they're pleasantly taut and tight even through his shirt. But it isn't your wandering hands that Vergil is questioning. It's the slow motion of your hips against his thigh, a gentle rocking that grinds your clothed cunt against his leg that's pulling his attention away from the flickering screen behind you. When did you take off your pants? Were you wearing any to begin with? He can't seem to recall. All he can really take notice of at the moment is the heat that presides between your legs. The heat that's pressed so delightfully against him...  
  
"Entertaining myself." Your voice is deliberately breathy, taking on that low sultry cadence that never fails to make his jaw clench. "You can keep watching. I'll…" Your words trail off in favour of suppressing a moan, muffling it by catching your plush lower lip between your teeth - another carefully calculated move to further entice him. One you know that works because you catch his gaze flickering down to them for the most fleeting of moments before they return to your eyes. One corner of your lips pulls upwards into a sly smile. "I'll keep myself busy."  
  
Your hands slide to his shoulders, your head eventually following suit to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Vergil doesn't move. Maybe he doesn't want to disturb you, maybe _he_ doesn't want to be disturbed… you can't really be sure which it is, but it doesn't really matter much to you either way - you're far more keen on the fact that he spreads his legs wider for you, to better accommodate your straddling of one of his thighs. You give an appreciative hum, half moaning into the warm skin at the base of his throat and situate yourself a little more comfortably over his lean thigh.  
  
It doesn't escape your notice that he's tensing it for you too.  
  
And what sort of savage would you be if you didn't take him up on his generous offer? You breathe out another soft moan and press yourself harder against him, your hips rolling in slow, languid motions to draw out the friction. You're getting wet already, muffling whimpers of his name into his neck as you vary up your movements, alternating between gentle grinding, and long, deep strokes that drag your clothed clit against taut leg. Your own thighs close over his tighter, and it's only when you feel his hands, large and heavy, fall onto your hips - a foreign pressure to your currently lust-addled mind - do you notice a very particular pull in the material of his sweatpants. One that originates at his crotch and is undeniable proof that what you're doing is affecting him.  
  
You can't help but laugh quietly, voice equal parts pleasure and giddy glee as you watch his cock harden. The mere sight of it growing and straining inside his pants makes your breath hitch, makes you seek more of that sinful friction that teases at your clit as it too begins to swell and throb. His expression is placid, and his hands remain passive on your hips, but his cock continues to pull at his pants in such an alluring way that the temptation to reach down to massage and tease it to full mast is almost unbearable. But if Vergil is playing hard to get, ignoring your pleasured mewls and the eager rolls of your hips, then you can do exactly the same.  
  
You continue to grind and rut, long and slow, a sensual dance that utilises the drum of your heart as its beat. Your hands occasionally shift their grip on Vergil's shoulders just to anchor yourself a little better, provide a little more leverage to drag the now soaked seat of your panties over his thigh. He spreads his fingers across the expanse of your hips, tensing his hands and pressing the tips of his fingers into the softness of your body, but still, he doesn't pay attention to you, doesn't try to move you, or force you up against where his cock tents the front of his pants - where you know he wants you to be. Yet that somehow makes it all the more thrilling to you. Another short, playful laugh bubbles from your lips as you nip and lick at his jaw, that pleasant, steep angle of his chin.  
  
"Are you quite finished?" He murmurs against your lips - the only form of direct attention he's given you in entire minutes.  
  
You shift on his lap, swinging your thigh over his other leg to straddle him properly, and now that you've re-centered your position, your body once again blocks the TV behind you. But you know he isn't upset, because looking into his eyes, you see the haze of want that swirls lazily within - his interest in the movie wanes.  
  
"No." You finally answer, giving him another quick kiss as you snake a hand between both your bodies, teasing the waistband of his pants, your fingertips brushing his happy trail. Vergil's breath hitches when your hand finally slips underneath, and you moan again when your fingers close over his cock, now fully hard, and so hot against your palm. You can't resist the slow pump you give him, relishing in the soft groan that follows as you flip his cock up and into a more comfortable and convenient position inside his pants, one that pins his shaft between both of your bodies and allows for easier grinding - you want him to be able to feel all of you as you rut along his twitching length. Then you withdraw your hand, smiling at the suspicious squint that he gives you. He doesn't have long to lament the loss of the feel of you though, because you're already pulling yourself forward on his lap to press the heat of your cunt against the underside of his hard cock. Even through the material of his sweatpants, his reaction - a hiss sucked through his teeth - is immediate, and near music to your ears. Your hands travel back up his body to frame his jaw, and your face hovers so close over his, lips just barely brushing. You're close enough to watch every twitch in his expression, every flicker and swirl as the hue of eyes catches and reflects the light of the TV you've both forgotten about. "You're finally paying attention to me, so I'm not going to be 'finished' until you are."  
  
You feel him shudder against you at that.  
  
Your hips begin moving anew, rubbing and grinding your clothed slit against his cock. And having given in, to the weight of you in his lap, the smell of your arousal that makes his own dribble from the tip of his shaft, Vergil's hands guide you now, lifting and pulling you along his length in an ebb and flow as gentle as the ocean that laps at the shoreline. You press your forehead against his, your breaths coming out in hot puffs that he feels fan against his cheeks, lips grazing, tongues occasionally flickering out to touch and tease and taste. His eyes are locked onto yours, the only constant amidst the thrill and the motions of this lascivious dance, yet more than how you can feel his cock throb, more than each electrifying drag against your swollen clit, and the aroma of your arousal in the air, it's that look that he's giving you that sets your body ablaze. A quiet simmer that hides his passion so well until he has you where he wants you.  
  
Presently, that happens to be right where you are, doing exactly what you're doing. You've both made quite a mess of the bed linens on more than one occasion, what's a pair of sweatpants amidst that?  
  
You give a delighted hum as you pepper his face with kisses, your hands wandering down the sides of his neck. His pulse is erratic underneath your fingertips, and with your thumb, you feel his adam's apple bob in his throat when your slick finally soaks through even the front of his pants. Vergil takes another deep breath, closes his eyes to revel in the overwhelming smell of you. He feels another trickle of precum ooze from his cock, and he distantly thinks of the discomfort that will bring later. But all it takes is another pleased whimper from you, another drum of his pulse in his ears, another round of that maddening, rapturous friction, and he realises he can't bring himself to care.  
  
"I know you can cum like this, Vergil." Your lips skim his jawline, where you suckle lightly at his pulse. " _I know you want to_."  
  
Your answer is another groan from him, a pleasing rumble that vibrates against you. Though he's never explicitly stated so, he's also never once pushed you away whenever you've taken the initiative with him - you _both_ love the empowered feeling that he freely gives to you. Maybe that's why his hands shift against you, working you against the bulge in his pants with a little more fervour. A little more desperation. Maybe that's why you answer in kind, moaning into his throat and leaving even more of a wet mess on the crotch of his pants. Maybe that's why you're so close yourself.  
  
Winding your arms around his neck, you pull yourself towards him, chest to chest as your hips continue to gyrate. Like this, the thrumming of your hearts sync up into one frenzied pulse, and even Vergil's hips begin to grind upwards to meet your downward thrusts. His hands slip from your hips, sliding around to cup your ass, squeezing and kneading as he lifts you against him, faster and harder to urge you both towards that sensuous peak. Pleasured grunts slip freely from between his lips now, all of which you swallow greedily in a sloppy kiss that's more tongue and teeth than anything else.  
  
"You're intolerable--" he grinds out between the instances of reprieve that you grant his mouth, "--insufferable-- maddening--"  
  
Through the turmoil and the mania, you swipe at his kiss swollen lips with your thumb, smearing a trail of a mix of each of your saliva across his cheek, and that hazy, lost look in his eyes urges another stream of slick to trickle from within you. "But do you want me to stop?"  
  
With pupils blown wide, he doesn't take even a moment to consider it, his answer tumbling from those plush lips of his without any hesitance as his hands squeeze your ass again with a steadfast conviction.  
  
"No."  
  
And when you seal your mouth over his again, he no longer tries to speak, focusing only on you in his lap, and the tumultuous pace you're setting with each roll of your hips. It isn't the stimulation that's churning his passion, it's your own needy desperation that fuels his own and makes his cock twitch - the idea that you're so wet for him when all he's done is _sit there_ , the sight of you, the smell of you, your very _presence_ in his lap, and that intolerable _heat--_  
  
Vergil breaks the kiss early as another noise comes from deep within him, something a little tight and strained, and it isn't until he forces your hips against his own to trap the heat of your wet core along his cock do you realise that it's because he's cum first. Even through two layers of material, you can feel him throb as his release paints the inside of his pants, adding to the blooming wet patch that adorns his crotch. Vergil's head lols back to rest against the couch behind him, leaving his neckline free for your teeth to bite and suck, an invitation that you gladly accept. You cannot mark him, but Vergil has never stopped you from trying, relishing in the sensation of your tongue on his skin as you continue to rut against him in time with each pulse of his cock, each ragged rasp of breath he takes.  
  
And then you cum as well. Because like Vergil, you derive pleasure from the thrill of power, in the knowledge that all it takes to make him lose himself to you is a slow roll of your hips. You're both bad for each other in the best of ways, you think, as you shudder and twitch against him, moaning your praises into his shoulder and his lips and his cheek, and spelling his name with your tongue on his. Your thighs tighten around him as you push yourself further into him, trying in vain to press the length of his cock as far into your folds as your clothing will allow, if only to sate the needy clenching of your cunt. It doesn't quite succeed, but it the pressure it results on your clit has you drooling onto Vergil's shirt as your eyes roll back to stare listlessly across the room, mind far too gone to notice anything but the rhythmic jolts of pleasure that courses through you.  
  
It comes as a mere static at first, but eventually, the sounds of the TV return to your ears, taking precedence over ragged breaths and the beating of hearts. You register the feel of Vergil's hands, still on your ass, still kneading each globe in each of his hands, and when he lifts his head, he looks at you with a glint in his eye that tells you in no uncertain terms that he is far from finished with you. He steals another kiss and gets to his feet, effortlessly lifting you with him to make for the bedroom… assuming you both get that far, because your hips are moving again, and he's still hard.  
  
Well, if nothing else, at least the dining table is on the way.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed?! Thank you for reading, frens!! 💖💖🙏


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